


Let Me Call You Sweetheart

by stevie_RST



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 1920s, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Bitty Shitty Lardo friendship, Drinking, F/F, I don't drink so it's funny I wrote a fic set in an illegal speakeasy, Jack never went to Samwell, John Johnson the metaphysical goalie who is the metaphysical thrift shop owner, M/M, POV Eric "Bitty" Bittle, Post-WWI, Slow Burn, bartender Jack, first fic from only one character's pov, he also keeps bees, no hockey, speakeasy, the speakeasy is raided but nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24556339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevie_RST/pseuds/stevie_RST
Summary: When Eric left Georgia to go to Samwell University, he thought he would just go through the motions, make some friends, and be happy he left his Southern hometown. He didn’t expect to find a mysterious suitcase in a thrift store in small-town Massachusetts that would take him on a goose chase to find its owner and find love in the process. Turns out he didn’t need to go that far.
Relationships: Alexei "Tater" Mashkov/Kent "Parse" Parson, Camilla Collins/Larissa "Lardo" Duan, Eric "Bitty" Bittle & Larissa "Lardo" Duan, Eric "Bitty" Bittle & Shitty Knight, Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 13
Kudos: 87
Collections: OMGCP Reverse Bang 2020





	Let Me Call You Sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my fic for the OMGCP Reverse Bang!! Thank you to the mods for creating and running this fest!
> 
> Thank you to Rossella, [jckzimmermanns](https://jckzimmermanns.tumblr.com) on Tumblr, who created the amazing artwork that inspired this fic!! She was so up for me turning it into a historical au and I am so happy I was able to write it! 
> 
> Here's a link to the [amazing art!](https://jckzimmermanns.tumblr.com/post/620099790623096832/let-me-call-you-sweetheart-by)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who beta read for me and/or helped me come brainstorm ideas! 
> 
> Thank you, Amber ([thatsclassicsbaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsclassicsbaby/works)) for always listening to all of my rambling and for further enabling me to write a historical au! Thanks for being one of my go-to brainstorming buddies. 
> 
> Thank you, Tim for betaing and helping me come up with ideas and some dialogue! And for helping me edit when I somehow wrote two different versions of the same scene without noticing. 
> 
> Thank you, Kerry ([theladymondegreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladymondegreen/pseuds/theladymondegreen)) for encouragement and betaing! You always find my grammar and tense issues that!
> 
> Title from the 1911 song ["Let Me Call You Sweetheart,"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FM4lDtsV-9Q) performed by Henry Burr and the Peerless Quartet. 
> 
> Also, I totally recommend looking up lists of 1920's slang, some of it is just hilarious!

Samwell was a coeducational college. Which was one of the various reasons why Eric applied there in the first place. He had always planned on getting out of Georgia, getting out of the South somehow. He had been too young to enlist in the Great War when America joined the fighting, so college was the perfect opportunity to leave Georgia. 

Samwell was also up North, in Massachusetts near Boston. Now Eric had never been to Boston or any big city aside from some visits to Atlanta. But he knew that a big city offered more anonymity than the tiny rural town his family had lived in for generations. And he was more likely to meet other men like him there. Men who liked other men. 

He had met a man a few years older than him in Atlanta once who shared his preferences, but he was only passing through on his way back to Boston. They kept in touch by exchanging letters every now and again, but that was it. And there were certain things that shouldn’t risk being talked about through written correspondence even if they weren’t engaging in a relationship that was anything other than platonic. 

Eric trusted Shitty, as he liked to be called. He was about the only person Eric felt he could speak openly to. Even if they didn’t have much chance to speak and most conversations occurred via their letters. 

\--------------------

One of Eric’s prized possessions was a portable gramophone that he received as a gift from his grandparents. Eric loved music, but wasn’t the most musically inclined. He could play a bit on the piano, but it was hardly his calling in life. Maybe he could find someone to teach him when he was away at school. Learning from anyone else would have to be better than learning from the elderly woman in town who was half-deaf and always forgot to sit with her hearing ear closest to the piano. She wasn’t a bad teacher, but lessons were frustrating for all involved. Which is to say that Eric didn’t take lessons from her for very long.

He hoped to buy a radio soon as it seemed they would become more popular, but he loved that with his gramophone he could listen to some of his favorite records whenever he wanted. 

\--------------------

The days leading up to his departure, Eric found himself already missing home despite wanting to leave. He felt nostalgic as he packed his clothes and the other few belongings he was bringing with him. Multiple times he found himself wistfully looking around his room. The room he had lived in his whole life up until this point. There were pencil marks on the door jamb that marked his height over the years. His father always hoped he would hit another growth spurt, but it was seeming less and less likely to happen. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about getting his pants altered or buying new ones all together if he stayed the same height now. 

The day before he was set to leave, Eric finished packing his clothes and double checked that he had everything. He took the last few folded shirts out of the chest of drawers and put them into the open suitcase on his bed. That was the last of his clothing he had to pack aside from what he was wearing and would wear for his train journey tomorrow. 

Once he was all done packing, Eric stood back and looked at his life essentially packed up in suitcases. One suitcase full of clothes and shoes, a valise full of random bits and bobs, as well as some letters and paperwork, his gramophone in its case, and his hand-me-down typewriter in its own case that had seen better days. 

He wasn’t sure exactly what he felt looking at everything neatly packed and ready to go. It was a mix of excitement and nervousness with a bit of apprehension thrown in. Of course the nervousness bordered on fear. But it was less a fear of the unknown and more a fear that things wouldn’t work out. 

Eric took a deep breath and closed the door to his room behind him as he went downstairs for his going-away dinner. 

\--------------------

Eric got off the train, valise and gramophone case in one hand, and typewriter case in the other. A porter set down his suitcase on the platform near him. “Thank you for the help,” Eric said as the man turned to help someone else with their luggage. 

Before Eric even moved to try and carry all his luggage at once. He heard a shout and saw someone running vaguely towards him. 

“Bitty! Over here!” Eric turned toward the voice, realizing it was directed at him. No one had ever called him Bitty out loud before. It was different when Shitty addressed him that way in his letters. But it is of course how Eric knew that it was Shitty yelling for him. He felt a smile tug at his lips as the man ran towards him, sans jacket, shirtsleeves rolled up, and hat in hand. 

“Bitty!” Shitty greeted again, this time when he was much closer to Eric. “You’re here, I can’t believe it. I’m seeing you in the flesh,” Shitty said as he reached out to take the typewriter case from Eric to exuberantly shake his hand before clapping him on the shoulder in further greeting. 

Eric laughed at Shitty’s enthusiasm, “I’m excited to finally be here. Thank you for meeting me.” He picked up his suitcase, since Shitty now held his typewriter case, and Shitty led him across the train platform to the stairs. 

“You’re going to love it here. I have so many things to show you. This is already _so_ much better than writing letters.” 

\--------------------

Shitty of course convinced Eric to attend a party his first night in Samwell. Eric wasn’t too sure about it. But he wasn’t too sure about a lot of things. He had felt out of place the moment he stepped off the train despite being with Shitty who knew him better than people he knew his whole life. Going to a party was leagues different from being in a train station in a new city, because even from city to city train platforms didn’t vary much. 

Eric decided the party would be fun, a chance to meet people before classes started. Shitty told him it wasn’t any old party though. It was a queer party. 

The first thing Eric noticed when he and Shitty reached the house was that aside from the muffled sound of music it didn’t look like there was a party going on. Eerie was the only word he could think of to describe it. 

“Shitty, why is it so...quiet? I mean even the curtains are drawn.” 

“Well my young friend,” Shitty started. 

“Shitty you’re only two years older,” Eric interrupted. 

Shitty continued as if he wasn’t interrupted, which Eric found amusing, “I told you this was a party for a certain group of people. As you know we don’t want to draw attention, so it’s safer to just hide behind the curtains. Now come on! I’ll even save you a dance.” Shitty grabbed Eric’s arm and led him up the walkway to the house. 

Once inside it looked and sounded like any other party. Music was playing, people were talking and laughing, glasses clinking. There were people clustered around the front room engaging in various conversations as well as a few couples dancing—Eric noted with a smile that it was mostly guys dancing with guys and girls dancing with girls. 

Shitty clapped Eric on the shoulder, he was still getting used to the friendly affection, but wasn’t opposed to it. “Alright, I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go look for Lardo. I can’t wait for you two to meet,” Shitty said with an excited glint in his eye as he rubbed his mustache. 

“Oh, okay,” Eric said looking around, “I’ll just wait for you...here,” but Shitty had already disappeared into the sea of people.

Eric walked a little further into the room, he figured he could find someone to introduce himself to while he waited. He saw a guy on his own leaning against a nearby wall and figured why not. As he approached, Eric realized the guy was shorter than him, which wasn’t a common occurrence, since Eric was already fairly short himself. He stuck out his hand to shake as he introduced himself, “Hi, I’m Eric.” 

The guy took his hand and shook it, “Larissa, nice to meet you.” 

“Oh. Nice to meet you too. Sorry, um, I thought you were a guy.” 

The _girl_ raised an eyebrow, “Really? I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said with a huff and a bit of a smile on her face. Eric had never met a woman who dressed like a man and took being called one as a good thing. 

“I was thinking that it was a shock to see a guy, or someone I thought was a guy who was shorter than me. I’m pretty short myself.” 

“You should meet my girlfriend, she’s taller than you.” 

Eric could tell that when Larissa said girlfriend she meant it in the way that they had a romantic relationship, not in the way that his mama called her female friends her ‘girlfriends.’ 

They were both laughing when Eric saw Shitty walking towards them. “There you are!” Shitty exclaimed. Eric thought he was addressing him, but was proven wrong when Shitty looked past him at Larissa. 

“Lardo, where have you been hiding?” 

“Behind, Eric, here. He’s not much taller than me, but still tall enough to hide behind.” 

“You’ve already met Bitty? I was trying to find you to finally introduce you.” 

Eric and Lardo spoke at the same time: 

“This is Bitty?” 

“You’re Lardo?” 

Lardo chuckled, “You first.” 

“It’s just, Shitty has told me a lot about you in his letters. It’s great to finally meet you.”

“You too. Any friend of Shitty’s is a friend of mine.” 

Shitty leaned on the wall next to Lardo and started whining, “My two best pals met without me there to witness it.” 

“You were too busy looking for a drink,” Lardo said and pointed to the glass in his hand.

“In my defence I was looking for you,” he poked Lardo on the shoulder, “but then the liquor was calling my name.” He emphasized his statement by taking a long drink from his glass. 

The three of them talked for a while in their sort of huddle by the wall, and Eric was content. He was enjoying being in a place where he could be himself even if he wasn’t dancing with another man or something else that just as obviously revealed that the fancied men. 

A little while later a tall blonde woman walked into the living room and Eric saw her smile brightly as her eyes caught sight of Lardo. She made her way over, pecked Lardo on the cheek and introduced herself as Camilla. Eric shook her hand and then immediately said “You really are tall,” before he really thought about it. All four of them laughed about it. 

The four of them talked for a while and Shitty did pull Eric into the middle of the room to dance with him as promised. By the end of the night, Eric had danced with all three of his friends. He felt really happy. Immensely happy even. Like Samwell was the right decision. He couldn’t wait for what happened next. 

\--------------------

Eric settled into Samwell as well as any freshman. In that he felt lost for a couple weeks, despite having Shitty as a self-appointed tour guide, until suddenly it was like he knew the campus like the back of his hand. It started to feel like home. Sure he still missed his mama, and his Moomaw’s peach pie, and the weather was a lot cooler in Massachusetts than Georgia. But he had friends now, close friends and he had a purpose, at least for the time being. He was enjoying this new phase of his life, but still felt like something was supposed to happen. Isn’t that what so many stories always portrayed? You leave your suffocating home to find a new adventure in the great beyond? But maybe eastern Massachusetts wasn’t much of a great beyond anyway. 

\--------------------

College was both everything and nothing like Eric expected. He figured maybe he’d only really spend his time in his room, and in class, and eating in the dining hall. And that is how most of his time was occupied, but it was with the addition of Shitty lounging on the floor of his room smoking cigarettes and keeping him company while they studied, or sitting with Lardo and Camilla in the dining hall for lunch laughing about the latest gossip in The Swallow—Samwell’s on-campus newspaper. 

He enjoyed his classes, but they weren’t anything special. He paid attention as well as he could, but often found himself daydreaming about nothing in particular. He took notes, but he barely recalled anything it wrote down. He enjoyed class discussions, since they allowed for him to talk out his thoughts, but could tell that a lot of his classmates didn’t share the same sentiment.

\--------------------

Shitty and Lardo also introduced Eric to a mom-and-pop diner called Annie’s that was only a couple blocks away from campus. It became Eric’s favorite off-campus place to spend his time. He became a regular customer and the owners, an older couple—husband and wife—knew his name and go-to order by heart only after a week of him coming in almost daily. And while the pie was not as good a Mama’s, Eric could tell that it was baked with love. 

It then became a weekly tradition for Eric, Shitty, Lardo, and Camilla to get a meal—be it lunch or dinner usually—at Annie’s at least once a week. Shitty admitted that as much as he loved the place he hadn’t spent enough time dining there until Eric joined their group of friends. 

\-------------------

Lardo convinced Eric and Shitty to take a trip to the thrift shop with her. She hoped to find some trousers she could alter and maybe some knick-knacks to make art with. Eric still didn’t understand how, but Lardo could turn some of the most mundane items into sculptures that were truly works of art. She was also a skilled painter and adept at sewing almost anything. Eric knew for a fact that many of Camilla’s skirts and dresses were sewn—or at least altered—by Lardo. Eric always found it strange when Lardo wore dresses and heels, knowing she was much more at home in trousers, suspenders, and oxfords. Unfortunately, appearances needed to be kept from time to time.

They decided to walk to the thrift store as it wasn’t too far away from campus since Samwell was a small town. The weather was pleasant enough, a nice crisp fall day, but Eric was still getting used to the overall cooler temperatures. He was a bit worried he would freeze when winter came around. 

Lardo slipped her arm around his elbow leading him along the sidewalk, Shitty following them. “You’ll love the thrift store, Bitty. It’s like a treasure hunt, you never know what you’re gonna find.” 

This was Eric’s first time visiting the thrift store, but he knew Lardo was a frequent customer so he would take her word for it. 

\--------------------

It was a smallish storefront with a window displaying some clothed mannequins and an array of knick knacks. The sign was simple, and just said “thrift shop” in a cursive font. Shitty opened the door, the bell above the door jingling to alert their entrance, and held it open for Lardo and Eric to walk inside before him. Once inside, Eric looked around, noting that the store seemed a lot bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside. There were racks of clothes, wooden shelves packed with books and records, hats and shoes on display, and even a section for children’s toys. Eric understood why Lardo was drawn to the place. It really was a scavenger hunt wanting to happen. There was even a cat sleeping in an over-stuffed green velvet armchair in a corner near the front of the store. Eric resisted the urge to pet it not wanting to wake it. 

As they walked further into the store, they were greeted by a man that didn’t look too much older than they were as he was coming out of a door near the counter that held the cash register. 

“Hello! Looking for anything in particular today?” 

“Hi, Johnson,” Lardo replied. “I’m hoping to find some clothes, but I’m just going to browse and see what there is. Although, this is Bitty’s first time visiting the shop.” 

“I thought so,” Johnson turned to address Eric, “Pay attention to what you find here, you never know, what you find might really change your life. Have fun looking around.” He gave Eric an overexaggerated wink and then turned back to return to his previous tasks. 

“Well, that was...strange,” Bitty said to Lardo and Shitty. 

“Nah,” Shitty replied, “Johnson’s a cool cat, you can trust him. Now come on Bitty, my friend, the thrift store awaits. Like he said, you never know what you’re gonna find,” Shitty said as he wiggled his eyebrows dramatically.

\--------------------

Eric took his time wandering around the thrift store. He flicked through a few records, tried on a hat or two, almost tripped over the skirt of a dress too long for the clothing rack. He meandered through the racks of clothing, catching glimpses of Lardo and Shitty here and there as they browsed. 

After escaping the sea of clothing, he found a section in the back corner that was full of old trunks and suitcases. He thought that maybe he could find a suitable one to house his typewriter instead of the old beat up case it came with. There were a few that had potential. But he realized he wasn’t sure of the exact size of his typewriter. He would have to measure it and come back another day. He figured he would just look for the heck of it. He sifted through various leather trunks and suitcases of different sizes. It was kind of fun and childlike to imagine the previous owners. Where did they travel to? Where were they from? How did their suitcases end up in a thrift store in a small town in Massachusetts? 

During his pondering, Eric came across a battered, brown leather suitcase, nestled between other brown leather cases that were considerably less tattered. It was a smooth leather, worn. The leather to reinforce the corners looked worse for the wear, but the handle was in good condition. It had a handwritten price tag on it, like most of the other things in the store. But when Eric moved the tag out of the way he noticed the initials below the handle, J.L.Z. Intrigued, since it was the first monogrammed case he had come across so far, Eric opened the latches to look at the case some more. 

Despite its weight when he had picked it up to take a better look, he did not expect it to be filled to the brim with bound notebooks and photographs. There were film negatives and canisters of, what he figured was even more, undeveloped film. It felt like he just found a chest of buried treasure like in those pirate serials. 

Before he knew it, he was sitting cross-legged on the thrift store floor to continue looking at the suitcase’s contents. As he flicked through the photographs, Eric realized that whoever had taken them must have seen action during the Great War. Most of them were images of battle or at least of soldiers. 

There was one man, a very handsome man Eric had to admit, if only to himself. He looked over his shoulder before he resumed looking through the photographs. A force of habit, worrying that people could somehow hear his thoughts. 

There were a lot of photographs, and quite few that showed the same dark-haired man. A lot of the other men were the same across many of the photos. Eric figured that they must have all been in the same regiment or unit during the war, he wasn’t the best with military terminology. 

The next picture that Eric came across was a self-portrait of the handsome, dark-haired man. Eric called it a self-portrait since it was a photograph that was taken in a mirror. The man and his camera captured in the reflection. Could this man be the photographer? This photo was proof of that wasn’t it? Did the suitcase and its contents belong to him? Was he J.L.Z? Eric had an inkling that he was. 

More questions swirled around in his head, his curiosity peaked. Did JLZ misplace this suitcase and it ended up here? Or did he purposely get rid of it? He was still staring at the self-portrait, sat on the floor with photographs littered around him, when Shitty came up behind him. 

“Hey, Bitty,”Shitty spoke when he was about a foot away, causing Eric to jump slightly and clutch the photograph in his hand to his chest. 

“Shitty, don’t sneak up on me like that, you should wear a bell or somethin’.” 

“I’m sorry, Bits, I was looking for you. Lards found some stuff so we’re getting ready to head out.” He leaned down and peaked over Eric’s shoulder, “Whatcha got there?” He paused, looking at the photo that Eric was too slow to hide, “That is one handsome man.” 

“Um, yeah, he is,” Eric said in almost a whisper, his voice much quieter than Shitty’s was. He then added, “There’s a lot more here too. More photographs, a stack of journals.” 

Shitty clapped Eric on the shoulder, well I hope you’re gonna buy it.” 

“Yeah,” Eric said feeling strangely determined, “I think I will.” 

\--------------------

When Eric brought the suitcase up to the counter, Johnson was already behind the cash register. “I see you took my advice and really paid attention, now the narrative can continue.” 

“Um, yeah, of course. Thank you.” Eric replied. 

Johnson continued, "You know...that case has been sitting here for a while. Part of me wondered if it would ever be sold. Now, looking at you, it makes sense. I think it was waiting for you to pick it up. There's something about this particular plot and this particular bond that tells me this is a story that needs to be told.” He paused and smiled then, “Tell you what, “I’ll give you a special discount as a thanks for me getting to be a part of it. You were the first person to look inside that case afterall.” 

Johnson looked at the price tag to calculate a discount, then told Eric the price so he could get the proper amount out of his wallet. He handed over some bills and the cash register chimed as Johnson opened it to put the money in. Eric accepted his change and the suitcase--rather a treasure chest in his opinion--from Johnson with a small smile. “Thank you,” He said politely, still pondering what Johnson had said about plot and stories.

“Of course, let me know how things work out for you. And remember you’re always welcome here." With that the three of them bid Johnson goodbye, as Eric realized Lardo had already paid for her purchases. 

“So, Bitty, what did you think of your first trip to the thrift store?” Lardo asked as they started to walk down the sidewalk. 

“Um, it sure was something. Johnson is quite a character. And I can’t say I expected to buy an old suitcase full of junk, but here I am, suitcase and all.” 

\--------------------

When they got back to campus the three of them parted ways, Eric back to his dorm, Shitty to the fraternity house, and Lardo to visit Camilla in her dorm to show her what she bought from the thrift store. 

Eric hauled the suitcase, which seemed heavier now after carrying across town and campus, up the three flights of stairs up to his dorm room. Once inside, he hefted it onto the end of his bed. He then quickly shucked his shoes and outerwear until he was down to his shirt and trousers. He rolled up his sleeves and then proceeded to open the suitcase to spread the contents of it across his room.

He piled the journals on the end of his bed next to the opened suitcase to be read through later. He wanted a chance to thoroughly look through the photographs first. And he wondered if maybe he could find someone to develop the undeveloped film that lived in the canisters. 

He decided that the floor was better suited for the purpose of spreading out the photographs. So he moved the suitcase to the floor and hunkered down. He sifted through the photographs and laid them out on the floor in rows. 

He found a newspaper clipping that was folded around a couple of photos. It wasn’t very weathered, but then again the war wasn’t really that many years ago. The newspaper clipping was part of an article from what Eric guessed was more of a small town newspaper rather than a larger publication, since the name in the corner wasn’t one he recognized. It wasn’t even the whole article, mostly just the headline that said “Soldier Disappears.” 

Eric read the article and was surprised by the lack of names mentioned. But then again if it was a publication from a smaller town there was a chance that the people there would have known who it was about even with it not naming names. Although the headline, like many, was slightly misleading. It wasn’t just one soldier, but a whole unit that was missing in action. 

Eric figured that the owner of the suitcase, JLZ, since he was going with the initial on the suitcase being those of the owner, must have known someone who had been in the missing unit, or had even been part of it himself. Eric just hoped that the disappearance didn’t end in the men dying. The clipping didn’t reveal much, so he put it aside. 

He then noticed that one of the photos was of the dark haired man who appeared in a bunch of the photos. The man that Shitty said was handsome. Eric was beginning to think that this man was JLZ. He felt that the fact that the photo was taken in a mirror with both the man and the camera visible further supported his hunch. The other was a group photo of various men of different ages. It was an informal photo, the men with their hands draped around each other’s shoulders, ruffling one another’s hair. Eric saw JLZ, as he was going to refer to him, standing towards the edge of the group. Eric assumed he must have been in charge of the camera and set the timer so he could also be in the photo. 

Eric must have spent more time than he thought looking through the photo. He looked up, something shook him out of his trance but he was unsure what. He did notice it was not dark outside his window. A moment later there was an impatient knock on his door coupled with a voice that could only be Shitty’s calling his name, in a drawn out way, “ _Bitttyy_ , open the door.” 

“Coming,” Eric got up to pull the door open. Shitty strode inside, a furrow in his brow that showed he was worried. 

He immediately looked at Eric stood in front of him. “Bitty where have you been? You missed dinner.” 

“I did?” Eric looked at his watch, “I guess I did.” 

“What were you so caught up doing?” 

“Well…” Eric moved to the side so he was out of the way and motioned to the mess of photos on his floor and bed. 

Shitty’s eyes widened and he laughed, “You’re really invested, huh?” 

“Yes. I just wonder where he is and how his suitcase ended up at the thrift shop.” 

Shitty clapped his hands together, “Looks like we have a mystery on our hands. So how are we gonna find this fella?” 

“You--you want to help?” 

“Of course I do, Bitty, my friend.” 

Shitty pulled a pastry wrapped in a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to Eric. “Eat that. Now what are we working with?” Shitty sat on the floor and Eric joined him. 

“I’ll show you,” Eric said excitedly. 

\--------------------

Eric spent all of his free time working his way through all of the notebooks in the suitcase. He found himself enthralled by the writings of this stranger. This man who served in the war and seemingly made it out of it. Eric was fascinated by the first-hand account of what serving in an army was like and how daunting it must have been to be the age Eric was now, but in a trench on the other side of the world being shot at. It selfishly made Eric glad that he had been too young to enlist as much as his thirteen year old self had wished he could. Even then he had wanted to get out of Georgia. At least now it was five years later and he got out of Georgia and he was going to college. He realized now how lucky he was that he didn’t have to go to war in order to leave his small, Southern home town. 

Eric paused in his musing to look at the photograph he had left out while he read. It was the mirror photo. It felt like the most personal of all the photographs and he couldn’t stop looking at it. As strange as it was, he had taken to carrying it around in his pocket. He knew it was odd, to be so attached to a photograph of a person he didn’t even know, but he figured there was no harm in it. It’s not like he would ever meet JLZ anyway—if the initials on the suitcase were even those of the man in the photograph. 

There were a lot of entries that mentioned how he missed his parents or how things were dull until they weren’t, days blending together waiting for anything to happen and then wishing it would stop once it did. Eric figured a lot of other soldiers must have felt the same way. 

He sighed and went back to the journal he was currently reading. There were multiple mentions of someone JLZ referred to as just K, and other names were abbreviated to initials as well. Eric figured out early on that JLZ didn’t include any full names in his journals, which Eric thought was very smart, and filed away as something to do if he ever decided to keep a journal of his own. 

There were occasional entries where JLZ mentioned receiving letters from his parents and Erci could easily tell that he must have had a close relationship with them. 

_More letters from Maman and Papa. They say everything is well, but I know they worry. I wish I could sit with them in the front room and listen to records. To see anyone from home. I miss Maman’s singing. I even miss Papa’s hugs._

It made Eric miss his parents a bit. He had a good enough relationship with them, but always worried that he wasn’t the son that they had hoped for. Either way, he decided he would at least write a letter to Mama the next day. 

There was one entry that felt different from a lot of the others. The tone was different. Happier, maybe? It mentioned K. Eric had first thought that maybe JLZ had had a sweetheart, a girl waiting for him back home. But the more Eric read the more it seemed like K was also a man. Maybe someone he fought with, maybe just someone he met in France.

 _Got to see K today. So much better to talk in person than through letters. We somehow had so much to talk about despite all this monotony of war._

He flipped the page. 

_K feels the same way. But we don’t know when we’ll see each other again. And some things you just can’t write in letters._

Eric understood that sentiment, even if the only person he had really written letters to was Shitty and their relationship was platonic even if they were both queer.  
He flipped to the next page and read entry after entry. Some longer than others. Where some were just a few sentences. Others were multiple paragraphs that described the landscapes, as if setting the scene in a novel. Others were more practical. To-do lists or lists of supplies and rations. 

Reading further, Eric was able to piece together that K was most likely an American soldier and JLZ was Canadian.

Eric got so into the journal that by the time he came to the end of it, the light had changed outside, and the record on his gramophone had come to an end and needed to be switched out. 

\--------------------

Eric went into research mode to try to track down JLZ. He slacked off on a lot of his actual schoolwork in the process, yet found himself studying even harder for his history courses, strangely enough. And all of his spare time became filled with clues and hints and research and leads and deadends. He spent hours in Founders and at the local library scouring archives and looking through military records to no avail. 

He dragged Lardo and Shitty into his research madness and over time it became a fun sort of bonding activity and they learned a lot, in general, and about each other. Eric often found himself contemplating just how lucky he was to have friends like Lardo and Shitty, willing to help him in his borderline obsessive endeavour, while making sure to affectionately tease him about it. They didn’t have much luck finding anything. Eric knew that they most likely wouldn’t, but it was a fun hobby. To feel like they were characters in their own detective novel. 

\--------------------

Shitty was sitting backwards on Eric’s desk chair, leaning his arms on the backrest when he suddenly stood up, which indicated he was about to propose some idea or other. “Okay, friends, I have an idea. I know we are all disheartened by all these deadends. So I suggest a complete shot in the dark, something entirely different than what we’ve already done.”

“And what might that be, Mr. Knight?” Eric asked from where he was sitting on the floor idly flipping through the pages of one of the many journals.

“Well, Mr. Bittle, I have heard rumors of a queer club. You know a place for folks like us. And I know he’s become the man of your dreams, which could potentially provide bias,” he joked, “But...I don’t think you’re alone in thinking that this JLZ character seems kind of…” He glanced at Lardo who nodded back at him.

“Like us,” Lardo said from where she was reclined on the floor leaning against the side of Eric’s bed. 

Eric’s eyes widened because he of course thought the same thing. 

“Yeah. He seems like us,” Shitty said, “So who knows, maybe you’ll meet the man of your dreams, or maybe you’ll just have fun and get drunk on more than just the watered down booze we have at house parties. It’s a win-win in my book.”

Eric knew it was a long shot. It wasn’t even relevant to their search, but it wasn’t like adding another deadend would be a big deal at that point anyway . But his mama had always told him it was a small world, that things would happen if they were meant to be. Eric wasn’t too sure that anything was fate, but he sure did believe in coincidence. 

“I heard about the place from a friend of a friend. So are we going or what?” Shitty asked. 

Eric had no idea if that was actually true, since he still had no idea where Shitty actually got any of his information, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and he trusted Shitty. 

Lardo, of course, was the voice of reason, before also agreeing that either way going to a speakeasy would be a real good time. “Are you sure this isn’t just an excuse for you to check this place out?” 

“Larissa, sweetheart, I would never. I, for one, am taking this investigation very seriously.” 

“Sure, and you don’t want to get zozzled on something other than your homemade tub juice?”

Shitty looked slightly apologetic, but Eric didn’t really mind. Why shouldn’t they go and have a good time just because. 

“What do you say, Bitty?” Lardo asked. “It’s up to you, I’m always ready to party.” 

Eric looked at her with a smirk on his face, knowing she would pick up on the fact that he was teasing a little. “We can just say it’s another lead.” Eric said even though they all knew that it wasn’t. They just wanted to have some fun, let off some steam since their search had been fruitless so far. But Eric continued the ruse. “I mean a lead’s a lead, _right_?” 

“Right you are!” Shitty exclaimed, catching on to the jest. “You’re becoming a real gumshoe there Bitty!” 

So they donned their coats and hats and went to check out the basement bar.

\--------------------

So for Eric, it still feels like chance that they end up in a basement speakeasy on a Thursday evening. 

Eric, Shitty, and Lardo find the speakeasy simply enough with Shitty leading the way, Eric figured he must have got all the details from one of his mysterious friends. Once they were let in, along with two women who turned down the alley the same time they did, they were met by a wall of sound. Upbeat music intermingled with various conversations and a fair amount of laughter. 

Shitty let out a whoop of excitement. “Let’s find a table,” he suggested, “and then the first round of drinks is on me. Well technically on B.S. Knight Sr. so even better.” He chuckled. Eric had learned that Shitty loved spending money on things his father wouldn’t approve of.

They found a small table in the back and shucked their coats and hats onto chairs. Eric and Lardo sat down and waited for Shitty to come back with drinks. Eric was enjoying taking in all the sights and sounds. It was similar to all the parties he went to Samwell, but so different at the same time. This felt even more illicit for some reason. 

Maybe it was the fact that Eric had gotten used to seeing all the same people at Samwell parties. Or the fact that this was a place of business, and selling alcohol was illegal. Or maybe it was the fact that some many people looked at home here, like they were enjoying themselves without a care for the world outside. 

Eric was pulled out of his musing when Shitty thunked a pint of beer on the table in front of him. He nursed his beer while Shitty sucked his down, the froth stuck to his mustache, and Lardo drank half of hers before pulling Shitty onto the dance floor. Lardo was still a little annoyed that Camilla couldn’t come with them since she had to attend a weekly dinner at her parents house.

But of course Shitty wouldn’t turn down a chance to dance with Lardo, and Eric was content to watch them for the time being. He sat and finished his beer and then drank the rest of Lardo’s knowing she wouldn’t want it once it got warm and he’d buy her another. 

As if on cue, Shitty and Lardo returned to the table flushed and slightly out of breath. Shitty threw his arm over Eric’s shoulders and Lardo teased him for drinking her beer. 

Eric laughed, “I’ll go get us the next round then. I’ll be right back.” 

“And maybe after you’ve had some more you’ll dance with me,” Lardo said. 

“We’ll see,” Eric replied. He normally loved dancing, but wasn’t fully in the mood for it. And it was almost just as fun to watch his friends dance and make fools of themselves. He smiled to himself as he made his way to the bar. 

When he got to the bar, he didn’t see anyone behind it, but heard the sound of clinking glasses. “Excuse me?” he said. 

A voice called out, “one second,” and Eric realized that the bartender was bent down behind the bar, presumably organizing glasses. 

Eric leaned on the bar slightly and turned to observe the other patrons in the bar--dancing and drinking--as he waited for the bartender. 

“Sorry about that. What can I get for you?” the same voice asked behind him. Eric futzed with his wallet in his pocket as he started to speak before fully turning to face the bartender. “That’s alright, can I get--” he cut himself off, his eyes widening as he looked at the man in front of him. He shoved his wallet into a trouser pocket and leaned closer to the bar. 

“I know you,” Eric gasped out before he could stop himself. His hand immediately went to rest on the front of his jacket, where the photograph laid underneath, in his breast pocket. 

“I don’t think so, sorry,” the bartender said with a slight accent that Bitty couldn’t place, with a furrowed brow, his blue eyes fixed on Eric. 

“No. I mean… well, I don’t actually know you but,” he finally pulled the photo out of the breast pocket of his jacket. “This is a photograph of you isn’t it?” 

“Where did you get that?” the bartender asked, starting to look mildly paranoid and majorly angry. But no it wasn’t just anger, he looked like all the color had drained from his already pale face. 

Eric started to ramble, only succeeding in making things worse. “Well I found this suitcase. Full of photographs. I bought it at a thrift shop—” He was cut off. 

“How did you find me? Why did you come here?” the man whispered through gritted teeth, it seemed as if he wasn’t fully paying attention to what Eric was saying. 

“I-I-I didn’t mean to. I’m just here with-with friends,” Eric managed to stutter out, nervous by the fact that the bartender was a good deal bigger than him and looked ready to either fight or flee. 

The bartender ripped thet bartowel off of his shoulder, shoving it onto the counter, before turning on his heel and quickly walking away from the bar. Eric heard a nearby door slam, loud even in the din of music and laughter. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He hauled himself up onto the barstool closest to him and slumped against the bartop. 

A woman behind the bar walked over to where Eric was sitting, his head leant on his crossed arms on the bar top, the photo under one of his hands. “What happened there?” She asked tilting her head in the direction that Jack just fled. 

“Well I probably said something I shouldn’t have,” Eric said, sliding the photograph of Jack across the polished bar top to the woman. 

She looked down at the photograph, “Ah, I see. Jack doesn’t like to talk about, or even think about that time in his life. A lot of soldiers don’t. Can I ask where you got this? I’m George, by the way, I run this place.” She said all of this politely, but firmly, in a way that made Eric know that she would kick him out if it came to that. 

“Eric,” he introduced himself briefly before explaining. “I, um, I found it. At a thrift shop in Samwell. There was a whole suitcase full of photos and journals. I’ve been trying to find the owner to return it. I wasn’t expecting to find him here. But my friend had heard about this place and figured we should check it out and hadn’t had much luck with our research lately. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” 

“Haha,” George laughed, a pleasant smile on her face. She wasn’t angry, but Eric could tell that she must have been worried about Jack. “People tend to spill their guts to bartenders, nothing new there. But did you ever think that maybe the owner didn’t want the contents of the suitcase back?” She raised an inquisitive eyebrow. 

“It did cross my mind, but I figured there was no harm in trying. I felt like I knew Jack, now that I know that’s his name, through his photographs and writings and I wanted to meet him for real. That’s real selfish of me isn’t it?” 

“Perhaps, but we never truly know how others are going to react. It doesn’t seem like you meant any harm by it. And you know what they say about curiosity and the cat.” 

“I guess you’re right. I didn’t even mean to find him here. I never expected it. My friends and I only found deadends and figured a night out would be a good way to cheer us up. I really never expected to find him.” 

“We’ll just call it kismet then. But maybe think things through a bit more before making people confront their demons so...abruptly.” She slid the photo back to him. 

Eric nodded. Then as he was getting off the stool to leave, he looked at George, “Please tell Jack that I’m sorry.

“Why don’t you come back in a few days? You can tell him yourself. I think you both deserve that. ” 

“Of course, I will. But if you could still tell him for me, for now?”

“You got it, kid.” She winked at him before grabbing a cloth and wiping down some glasses, whistling along to the music as she went. 

He let out a breath and turned to make his way back to Shitty and Lardo to tell them the news. And then drag himself back to campus. 

\--------------------

Eric went back to the speakeasy, this time without Shitty or Lardo, on a mission to apologize to Jack. He was just glad that he had a good sense of direction and that the streets of Providence were starting to look as familiar as the streets of Samwell had become after a couple months. 

Eric had decided to skip his last class of the day in order to go down to Providence and visit the speakeasy without the worry of a crowd. But mostly he wanted to get a chance to apologize to Jack again and maybe get a chance to talk to him some more if the apology was accepted. Eric figured that going at an off time in the afternoon would be his best bet, when Jack didn’t have other patrons to tend to, since he was a bartender and all. 

He just hoped that Jack would be there and that he would hear him out. It was still so strange for Eric to think that he had actually found the man from the photographs, the writer of the journals. Jack. He had a name now that was more than just initials. But knowing his Christian name made Eric all the more curious about what the other initials stood for. What was Jack’s middle name? Was it something as common as ‘Jack’ or something that Eric wouldn’t even guess? Maybe he’d find out some day. 

Eric was so distracted by his daydreaming that he walked clear past the alleyway that led to the entrance to the speakeasy. He had to double back, and looked over his shoulder before ducking down the alley. 

He knocked on the door. A few moments later the small window at vaguely eye-height—for someone taller than Eric—opened then closed. It felt like an eternity, but was probably a minute at most until the door was opened and Eric was by a large man, he was very tall, with kind brown eyes. He smiled slightly, “You are Eric?” he said with a slight Russian accent. 

Eric wasn’t expecting that, he startled for a moment. He nodded and then swallowed before saying, “Yes, I’m Eric.” 

“George say you come back.” He ushered Eric inside. 

\--------------------

Eric took notice of the upright piano on the makeshift stage of the speakeasy. It was, of course, always there, but he never really grabbed his attention before. There was often live music of some sort, whether a band or a singer or both. But that was only in the evenings when people were most likely to be out dancing and drinking and wanting to party. During the afternoons when the bar was still open for the few patrons that might pass through, Eric learned that records were played on George's trusty gramophone.

But Jack was nowhere to be found when Eric arrived, which he should have figured since Jack was usually there at night. Eric said hi to George when he saw her and then wandered around since he didn’t actually want a drink, but didn’t want to leave either. Which is what led to him looking at the piano, dragging his hand lightly across the keys, gentle enough for them not to make a sound. 

He then looked over his shoulder then turned back towards the piano to ease himself onto the bench. He was by no means a great piano player, but his lessons did pay off if almost mastering three songs could be considered a feat. 

Eric got lost in the music when his fingers touched the keys and he didn’t realize he had acquired an audience of one watching him in something akin to awe until he turned his head and saw Jack standing there. Jack’s fascination with his playing caused him to fumble his fingers on the keys, thus disrupting the trance. 

Jack spoke up then, “My maman used to sing that song. One of her favorites to sing along to. She would always sing it to my dad. It’s my favorite. She’s a singer and an actress. She only really acts these days though, as far as I know at least.” 

“It’s a great song, and just about the only one I can actually play on the piano.” Eric laughed, twisting around on the piano bench to better talk to Jack. 

“You’re playing was...wonderful.” 

“Now, Mr. Zimmermann, I know that’s not true. I messed up at the end.” 

“That doesn’t matter. Music played imperfectly with passion behind it is leagues better than anything played perfectly without emotion. At least that’s what Papa always said. Why don’t you play something else? I’m sure everyone would love to hear it. A welcome change from the same three records on the gramophone.” 

“Well alright, but I only really know three songs in their entirety myself, so I can’t guarantee it’ll be that much different than swapping out records.”

Jack smiled before turning to go back towards the bar. Eric was about to start playing again before he remembered the reason he came to the speakeasy in the first place: to apologize to Jack. 

Eric stood up and almost caught his foot on the piano stool in his haste, “Jack, wait!” Jack stopped and turned back around to face Eric who made his way over from the piano. They were standing in the middle of the vacant speakeasy dancefloor. 

Eric took a breath to collect his thoughts—he knew he should have written notecards—before speaking. “Jack, I wanted to apologize. It wasn’t right for me to ambush you with that photograph. Or to assume you would want the suitcase back, or to think you’d want to talk about it. I’m sorry about all of it. But I’m not sorry that I met you, just so you know.” 

‘Thank you for apologizing. I know how...hard it can be. To apologize. And maybe one day I’ll be ready to look at everything again. I’m glad to know it’s all in safe hands.”

\--------------------

After Eric apologized and Jack accepted it, Eric started spending as much time as he could at the speakeasy. All his free time that had been spent researching and trying to find Jack, was now spent talking to him across the bar, or playing the upright piano, or watching George mix drinks or Alexei glaring or smiling at people in equal measure—it was almost hard to believe that Alexei was the bouncer when Eric first met him since he’s so friendly, but Eric quickly saw that he could be quite intimidating when he witnessed him deal with rowdy or violent patrons. 

Eric was sitting at the bar talking with Jack while he cleaned glasses. Jack offhand mentioned that he needed to check on his bees soon. 

“Bees? Eric asked, confused as to what bees had to do with anything.

Jack chuckled, “Yeah, bees. I have some hives. I keep bees, so I can sell the honey. What, you thought I just worked here?” Jack asked with a raised eyebrow. “I need to have some job that’s on the books, you know? Well so to speak.” 

“Guess I just never thought bees would be your job,” Eric chuckled. 

Their conversation reached a lull when the door to the back storeroom opened and a blond man he hadn’t seen before walked out (granted Eric hadn’t been to the bar _that_ many times, even though it felt like it). 

Eric didn’t pay much attention to the man until he came around the side of the bar and sat on a stool near Eric. The man let out a laugh as Eric watchung him look at Jack and then him before addressing Jack. 

“You really have a thing for blonds, dontcha?” the blond man teased, leaning an arm on the bar top. 

“Yeah, Kenny, because I am the only one with a type,” Jack gave him a significant look as Alexei happened to walk out of the backroom at that very moment, his hand squeezing Kent’s shoulder as he walked past with a smile. Which is also when Eric noticed that the man and Alexei both looked a little rumpled, and they had both come out of the backroom, and Eric blushed at his own thoughts. 

“Eric, this is Kent, don’t listen to anything he says,” Jack said in a teasing voice. He then put a drink down in front of Kent before he even asked. 

Eric wasn’t sure what just happened, but he figured that Jack and Kent had some sort of history. And that Kent and Alexei were… _together_. It still all felt strange to Eric, to see other people like him, and to see them expressing their affection where other people could see, despite the fact that he felt safe in this underground bar of all places. 

It was only later when Eric was back in his dorm that he stopped and realized, K, Kenny, Kent. Kent might have been the person Jack had referred to as K in his journals. But not just might have been, he definitely was. Eric’s eyes widened as he thought more about it. He grabbed a stack of photographs from where he had stored them in his desk drawer. 

He shuffled through them, and there in one of the photos, Jack had his arm around Kent’s shoulders. Their comments at the speakeasy earlier made a lot more sense now. And Eric was now even more certain that Kent and Alexei were in some sort of relationship. 

It strangely made Eric smile to himself as he realized that Jack wasn’t in a relationship with Kent now. Even if they had been at some point. So maybe Jack did like him, despite their not so great first meeting. They were friends now. Eric sighed, he wasn’t sure he would be able to be in a relationship with a man, even if it was his dream. To love someone and be loved. 

\--------------------

“You’re stuck on him, aren’t you? You were already on your way to smitten after looking through those photos,” Lardo teased. 

“And now you’ve somehow met the guy. It’s serendipity that’s what it is,” Shitty added, continuing Lardo’s train of thought like he often did. 

“It’s not like that. I mean sure, I think he’s swell, but we can’t really be together.” 

“Bitty, Bitty, Bitty, life is short and you should live it. Sure there are risks, and discretion is necessary, but nothing says you two can’t spend time together the ways other couples would. Just be careful.”

“Yeah, look at me and Camilla. It is possible. You can be happy, Bitty.” 

\--------------------

Eric loved to dance. He loved all of the dances in high school and the opportunity to swing dance with someone. Of course all of those times his dance partners were girls in his class so it was more for the fun of it then it was to actually dance with someone he liked more than a friend. But boy was dancing even more fun when you had feelings for the person you were dancing with and you were pretty sure they had feelings for you too. 

Dancing in the speakeasy in general was a whole different ball game. Things were less rigid and most people lost all sense of propriety, whether it was from having a safe space to be themselves or the copious amounts of alcohol consumed, Eric couldn’t say. Things felt overall freer. 

For Eric it was a combination of the two. There were few places he felt safe to be himself wholeheartedly. To be queer. To be a man who wanted to dance with and kiss other men. He had also had a few drinks that George had mixed for him. Which was surely a mistake considering how easily alcohol affected him and how heavy-handed George was when she was pouring liquor. 

But nothing was going to bring down his mood. He didn’t care how sloppy his dancing became. He was dancing with _Jack_. And Jack was smiling, a real smile, not the fake one he put on to play the part of the friendly bartender. Not only that, but Jack was smiling _at Eric_. And Eric couldn’t help but smile right back. His hand on Jack’s shoulder as Jack led them, their bodies getting closer and closer with each turn around the dancefloor. They were both down to their shirt-sleeves, Eric having lost his jacket and vest before he even made it to the dancefloor. 

They were so close to each other that their dancing turned into swaying back and forth despiste the upbeat tempo of the song. It was as if the two of them were in their own world. They were close enough that Eric thought Jack might kiss him. 

Instead, Jack smiled and said, “This is the most fun I’ve had in, I don’t know, a really long time. You’ll have to teach me those swing dancing steps, I can hardly keep up with you. You’re so fast. You must be incredible when dancing with someone who knows the steps.” 

Eric’s inebriated brain took a moment to realize that Jack had just paid him a compliment.

Before he was able to reply there was a ruckus. Pounding on a door, feet running down steps, Alexei’s Russian tinted voice shouting, and the sound of everyone in the room breathing as the music came to a stop as the commotion continued. 

Eric looked up at Jack, their arms still around each other. Worry began to sharpen his alcohol clouded eyes. 

“You need to go. This way.” Jack pulled Eric along, grabbing his wrist to tug him across the dancefloor, slipping his hand into Eric’s as they went. Jack led him down the short hallway and through a door that led to a stairwell which in turn led to a longer corridor when they reached the top. They were walking quickly, not quite a run, but their steps were hurried. 

“There are a lot more ways out of here than you’d think. Alexei made sure of it. A lot of people will get out, don’t worry,” Jack said betraying the worry evident in his own voice. “This leads to the alley on the other side of the building.”  
“Are you coming with me?” Eric finally found his voice to speak. He was a lot more sober now than a few minutes ago. 

Jack shook his head, “No. I need to stay here. Make sure George is okay. Help Alexei with the aftermath. It--it’s just a dog and pony show. The fuzz wanting to make a show of things. Half of them are crooked, and the other half go to bars to drink the same as almost anyone else. Things will be fine,” He squeezed Eric’s hand before opening the door and ushering him out into the night. 

\--------------------

Eric walked to the train station in a daze. He felt as sober as he could be for the amount he drank—the chilly night air helped—but the daze had less to do with the alcohol and more to do with the fear. The fear was only just starting to catch up to him. What would his mama say if she knew he was in a bar when it was raided? She wasn’t going to find out if it was up to him, but he kept thinking about it regardless. Was it reckless of him to spend time somewhere that was technically illegal for more reasons than one? Was it reckless if that same place was probably where he felt the safest? 

He wasn’t sure he would ever really feel safe there again though. And as far as he knew it was one thing for a bar to get raided and a whole ‘nother thing for a _queer_ bar to get raided. Well it seemed like he wouldn’t be going back there for a while. It’s not like he knew the protocol for after a bar was raided anyway. 

\--------------------

Eric looked up from his study desk in Founders to see the unexpected sight of Jack’s shy smile directed at him as he stopped a few feet away, his shadow in Eric’s line of sight. 

“ _Jack_!” Eric exclaimed quite loudly. He lowered his voice close to a whisper before he spoke again, he was in a library after all. “What are you doing here? How did you find me? Shouldn’t you be working?” Eric asked in quick succession. 

Jack leant against the cubicle Eric was seated at and let out a small chuckle before responding verbally. “Well, I was looking for you. I tried calling the phone for your dormitory, but the person who answered said you weren’t there after knocking on your room door. He told me that I would have better luck finding you at the fraternity house. So I went there and was directed here after crossing paths with Shitty.” Jack explained, looking satisfied with himself. “Oh, and no I’m not working tonight.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, actually I’m supposed to be. Alexei’s covering for me.” 

“That still doesn't answer why you’re here.” Eric replied as he closed his textbook, knowing that regardless of the direction this conversation went, he was done studying. 

“To see you, obviously,” Jack answered quite earnestly. But it made Eric narrow his eyes as he still wondered why Jack came to find him after two weeks. He almost thought that Jack wouldn’t want to risk being seen with him. It’s how Eric himself felt for the first few days after the bar raid incident, but then he just felt sad. Sad that he didn’t feel safe going to the speakeasy, a place that he had often felt safest. Sad that he didn’t get to see Jack’s light blue eyes and soft smile. And while Eric had given Jack the number of the telephone in his dormitory, the only number he had to contact Jack at was that of the bar. So he had no other way to get in touch with him if he wanted to avoid going there. He was just glad Jack came to find him. 

“Well you’re seeing me,” Eric replied. 

“And I would like to see you more,” Jack nearly whispered. The whispering is what made Eric understand that Jack must have missed him too. Before Eric said anything to embarrass himself, Jack asked, “Would you like to see a film with me tonight? There’s something new playing so you probably haven’t seen it yet. So, what do you say?” 

Eric stood up and gathered his books in his arms after pushing in the chair. “I say, I’d really like that. What time should I meet you?” 

Jack smiled, again that shy smile that Eric had been missing. 

\--------------------

Jack and Eric sat in the second-to-last row in the cramped theater. It wasn’t one of those movie palaces Eric had heard were opening up. There weren’t many, but he’d love to see a film in one someday. To Eric, the cramped, yet not crowded, nickelodeon suited just fine. 

Sitting next to Jack was the closest he had been to the other man since they danced together two weeks ago. Eric didn’t try for or expect more contact, despite knowing that couples often came to neck in the dark of the theater. But they weren’t a couple were they? And it wasn’t really possible for them to be, at least not in a traditional sense. 

Eric tried to stop thinking about what couldn’t be and enjoy the movie and the company. He had just returned his attention to the screen when he sensed Jack moving next to him. Before he could ask if anything was wrong, Jack pressed his leg against Eric’s. A steady pressure to show he was there and might have even been thinking similar thoughts to Eric’s. 

Eric returned the affection, for that’s what it was, and pressed his leg back against Jack’s to show he felt the same. They were pressed together knee to foot, as much as their height difference allowed. And for Eric it felt better than any awkward kiss with any girl ever did. 

Eric smiled in Jack’s direction while he was focused on the film. Which was of course when Jack decided to turn his head and grace Eric with a smile of his own. The smile was accompanied by Jack quickly squeezing Eric’s knee before replacing his arm on the armrest between them. 

\--------------------

Jack insisted on walking Eric back to campus, and Eric wasn’t about to refuse a chance to spend even more time with him. Once they made it to his dormitory, Eric realized that he could invite Jack up to his room, even just as friends, and no one would say anything since they were both men. 

“Would you like to come up? We can continue talking? Unless you have to get back.” 

“No. I mean—yes. Yes, I would like to come up and continue our conversation.”

Eric let out a sigh of what he figured was relief, even though he didn’t even realize he was holding his breath waiting for Jack’s response. “Great, follow me. I’m on the third floor, so we have some stairs to climb.” 

Eric opened the door and held it open for Jack, who blushed slightly before entering the building with a muttered “thank you.” 

Once they climbed the stairs to Eric’s food, he unlocked the door to his room and ushered Jack inside. While he wasn’t particularly worried about having a male friend in his room, he still didn’t want to explain to anyone who he was. It just wasn’t anyone else’s business. 

Eric shed his coat and hat before taking a seat on his bed. He smiled up at Jack who appeared to be frozen in place where he stood, a shy look on his face.  
As was becoming a pattern, before Eric could ask if anything was wrong, Jack spoke, “The day after the raid, George told me how she’d never seen me smile as much as I did when I was dancing with you,” Jack blurted out. 

Eric now noticed that he looked nervous. He patted the spot on the bed next to him. Following his cue, Jack took his hat off and moved to sit next to Eric on his bed, worrying the brim of his hat in his hands as he did so. 

Jack continued: “She was right. I feel happiest when I’m around you. I don’t know how or why...I mean I do. But. I’m not good at this…” Jack trailed off with a huff and looked down, refusing to look Eric in the eye. 

Eric rested his hands on top of Jack’s which were still running across the brim of his hat. When Jack’s hands didn’t stop their ministrations at his touch, Eric squeezed his hands tighter around them, now with the privacy to do so. 

“I like you too. I like being around you,” Eric said in a soft voice to reassure Jack and himself that their feelings were mutual. 

Jack smiled, a real, full smile. He finally stopped playing with his hat and turned his hands to squeeze Eric’s. 

Eric thought that Jack was going to lean in and kiss him then and there. But next thing Eric knew, Jack was standing up and donning his hat again, Eric realized he never even took his coat off. 

“It’s late. I should go. You should get some sleep, I know you have class tomorrow.” 

“Alright. Have a safe trip home, sweetheart.” 

Eric swore that Jack practically melted at the endearment, before he answered. “I’ll call you tomorrow. And you should come by the speakeasy soon, George has been asking about you. Oh, and I can show you my bee hives sometime,” Jack said in a bit of a rush and a lot more animated than usual. Eric realized that the cause must have been Jack’s excitement after their confessions. He looked downright giddy. Eric wished he could stay. 

Jack turned towards the door and then turned back towards Eric. He gently took one of Eric’s hands, from where it was resting on his thigh, and cradled it in his own hand before leaning down further to place a gentle kiss on the back of it. 

Eric felt like he was in heaven and he didn’t know how he got there. Jack slowly let go of his hand, looking like he could be easily persuaded to stay, but Eric figured it was late and Jack leaving would be for the best as much as he didn’t want him to go. 

Jack walked backwards towards the door, tipping his hat at Eric before turning the doorknob behind his back and slipping out of the room. 

\--------------------

A week later found Eric visiting Jack’s house for the first time. It was small, but looked Victorian as far as Eric could tell. It had a decent sized yard behind where Jack kept his bee hives as well as a shed for tools and whatnot. 

When he first arrived, Eric looked down at the slip of paper with the address to make sure he was at the right place. It was as if Jack had been waiting for him to arrive. As soon as he stepped off the sidewalk towards the front door, it opened to reveal Jack standing there. 

“Hi, bud,” he greeted from the doorway. Eric reached the door and stepped inside, his arm brushing Jack’s chest as he held the door open. 

“Hi,” Eric finally greeted in return once Jack shut the door. He took Eric’s coat and hat and hung them on the hooks by the door, next to his own outerwear. It made Eric’s heart jump to see something as simple as their coats hanging side by side on hooks, the sleeves touching each other, an imitation of holding hands. 

Jack led him through the living room and into the kitchen and offered if he wanted anything to eat or drink. Once in the kitchen, Eric took off his suit jacket and hung it on one of the kitchen chairs. The weather was starting to warm up, but Eric figured he was overheating due to excitement as well as nervousness. Jack was in his shirtsleeves too so it wasn’t odd. 

But once Eric thought about Jack being in his shirtsleeves, he couldn’t stop staring. Jack’s sleeves were rolled up to the elbow and Eric’s eyes were drawn to his strong forearms. 

“—show you the bee hives if you want.” 

Jack was talking to him and Eric had been too busy admiring his muscles to hear what he said. 

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Eric asked as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Jack smirked and Eric wondered if he could read his thoughts. He almost hoped he could. “I was just saying that I have some honey for you to try and then later I can show you the hives if you want.” 

“That sounds great,” Eric replied enthusiastically. He was excited by this side of Jack who was domestic and kept bees.

“And I don’t remember if you said you’re hungry, but I am, so I figured we could eat outside, talk for a while.” 

“I would love that, sweetheart,” Eric replied, trying out the pet name again. It had mostly slipped out without him really thinking about it, but he also hoped to make Jack blush. He succeeded. 

\--------------------

After Jack and Eric ate their lunch at the small table near the shed, Jack offered for him to taste some fresh honey. Eric felt Jack’s eyes staring at him as he took the proffered piece of honeycomb covered in honey to taste it. It was so delicious, Eric was pretty sure that he may have moaned at the taste. He then proceeded to lick his fingers clean of the sweet substance. 

In the next moment their eyes met and Eric’s cheeks blazed with embarrassment even as he smiled shyly at Jack. Eric was about to tell Jack what he thought about the honey, but was interrupted when Jack grabbed him around the waist. Jack then moved his hands to gently cup his face before he bodily pushed him up against the wall of the shed as he kissed him with all of his built up passion. 

Eric gasped into the kiss unable to think of anything other than the fact that this was exactly where he wanted to be. His senses were on fire, with Jack’s hands running up and down his shoulders and neck, his teeth nipping at his bottom lip, the rough material of the shed rubbing against his back through his shirt. 

Eric’s hands gripped at the fabric of Jack’s shirt near his waist where it was tucked into his pants. Eric so badly wanted to pull Jack’s shirt out of his pants and feel his skin, but he settled for gripping onto his suspenders as the kiss got more heated. 

Eric could feel his face heating up from his arousal, as well as his nervousness. They broke apart, both gasping for air, their lips still mere inches away from each other. Eric’s grip on Jack’s suspenders slackened and Jack leaned in to rest his forehead down on Eric’s. Eric could hardly get his breathing back under control. 

Jack sighed, “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t resist the urge to kiss you any longer.”  
Eric just stared for a moment, his eyes wide as he worked through what had just happened. Jack kissed him. Jack _kissed him_ and Eric couldn’t stop himself from internally cheering and externally touching his own lips. 

Once Eric got his voice back, he looked up at Jack and gasped out, “You kissed me,” with such incredulity, as if he wasn’t still sandwiched between a wall and Jack’s muscular body.

Jack’s eyes clouded with worry and he tried to step back a little, “Was that okay?” he all but whispered. 

Eric just gripped him tighter and pulled him back in, “More than okay.” 

\--------------------

Jack’s suitcase, again full of his notebooks and photographs—with the exception of the photo of Jack that Eric carried around that eventually found a home in his nightstand drawer—found its way under Eric’s dorm room bed. It stayed there all but forgotten until the end of the semester when he had to pack up his room for the summer. 

Eric pulled it out, dusted it off, and smiled to himself as he once again flipped the latches to open it. It seemed like it was high time he returned it to its rightful owner. He was planning to visit Jack tomorrow before catching his train back to Georgia for the summer the day after that, so it was perfect timing. 

In the couple months that he and Jack had been together, the past didn’t seem to matter, it was all about being in the present and taking advantage of the time they had to spend together. Jack had also opened up about his past and Eric hadn’t felt the need to read through the journals anymore. It also felt strange now that he knew the real Jack, and not some past version of him cobbled together through journal entries and photos. 

Eric put the suitcase near the door and got ready for bed. 

\--------------------

Eric woke up, got dressed, grabbed the suitcase and left his dorm to take a train down to Providence to visit Jack at his house. It had become a common occurrence, but Eric still loved every time he got to visit Jack at home, even if he did enjoy going to the speakeasy. 

Once in Providence, Eric made his way to Jack’s house, humming a song that was stuck in his head as he walked. He knocked once he reached the door and a moment later Jack was there smiling as he let Eric in. 

Once inside the door closed behind them, Eric said, “Hi, sweetheart. I have something for you.” 

“And what would that be?” Jack asked with a smirk as he eyed the suitcase in Eric’s hand.

“I think it’s about time I returned this to you. You don’t have to open it or look through it if you don’t want to. It can live under your bed now if you want. But, you should have it.” Eric sighed, “I should have given it back ages ago.” 

“Bud, calm down,” Jack said lightly. “Thank you. Thank you for taking such good care of it. I knew it was in good hands.” 

“But...you’re sure it’s okay? That it was just collecting dust under my bed for weeks?” 

“It is,” Jack chuckled, “When we met I still wasn’t ready to think about my past, let alone confront it head on. But as time went on I realized that I had been doing okay. I had everyone at the bar, I had my bees. And then you came along and made me realize some things. Even if I was fine then, I’m happy now. Thanks to you.” 

“You sure know how to charm a boy when you want to,” Eric said. 

“Only you.” Jack leaned over and gave Eric a chaste kiss. “So what do you say to looking through this with me? And then maybe shoving it under my bed and not looking at it again?” Jack added slightly nervously. 

“I’d love to, sweetheart. Let me just put some music on first.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! 
> 
> Thanks to Ngozi for creating Check Please! and all of these awesome characters to write!  
> Take a look at the comic [here](https://checkpleasecomic.com/comic/01-01-01)
> 
> Talk to me on Tumblr, I'm [iboughtaplant](https://iboughtaplant.tumblr.com)


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